Into the Deep
by otterlyardent
Summary: One fateful evening, a leisurely stroll around the lake changes Hermione's life forever. Come along as we uncover hidden pasts, unbelievable secrets, and an incredible love like no other. AU with a mermaid twist. (On HIATUS until Summer! 28/3/2019 — otterly)
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Hello again. Yes, I know - I promised fairly quick updates on my other two WIP's and then kind of ghosted on everyone for a month or two. I have no real explanations other than some bad shit went down, it affected me far more than I should've allowed it to and shook my faith in my own ability to write. But after some very helpful words of advice from some truly incredible people, I decided to pick up where I left off and this is the result.

This one is for Nicole, who so selflessly gives us story after story filled to the brim with romance, mystery and magic - and who really wanted some mermaids. I hope you like it, sweets. Thank you for believing in me. It means more than I'll ever be able to say.

Mama Trink, I honestly don't know where I'd be without you picking my brain and pulling out bits and pieces I didn't even realize were there. You inspire me daily and I love you so much for it. Thank you.

I am **_still_** on a working hiatus. I will update when I can, and when I want. That basically means I'll be slow updating. I refuse to put so much pressure on myself again - it nearly caused an epic breakdown.

I love you, my sweet readers. Your kind words and excited messages bring me so much joy, it's like walking on sunshine. But there is a darker side to posting a piece of yourself, heart and soul on the internet. There are people who choose to be unkind and hateful and their words do hurt and take a toll. Please don't be a human dementor, sucking the joy out of this amazing community we've created. Don't be that person.

As always, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, places, nor events that take place within his magical world. That right belongs solely to J. K. Rowling.

 **O-O-O**

Hermione looked out over the rippling water of the Black Lake and sighed. It was the only place she felt calm and settled. After spending so much time with the DA, and struggling to form a corporeal Patronus, she just needed a little peace and quiet. Technically, it was after hours. Technically, Umbridge would have her hide if she was caught. Technically, she stole Harry's invisibility cloak to sneak through the castle and out to the lake.

Hermione would normally be hyperventilating, worried sick about the consequences of her actions - however, the way the moonlight glinted off the water like a million sparkling gems seemed to call to her. The deep, dark waters no longer seemed so threatening and dangerous, though somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there were dastardly creatures hidden in the deep. Despite this, she felt no fear. The gentle waves lapping at the edge of the shore whispered to her.

 _Dive in. Forget the world for a little while. You belong here._

Later, Hermione would acknowledge that she undressed in a near trancelike state. Slipping off the invisibility cloak and folding it carefully inside her school robes. Next came her shoes and socks, and again her internal voice muttered about hypothermia and ridiculous flights of fancy, but all the bright, curly-haired witch could focus her attention on was the welcoming push and pull of the water, beckoning her like a long lost love. Her top came next, followed quickly by her skirt. The witch knew she should feel some sense of unease, wearing next to nothing out in public but all Hermione cared about was diving into the sparkling, crisp water.

Her rational mind urged her to dress and take her leave, hadn't she nearly drowned at an early age? Hadn't her mother begged to stay away from the water ever since? And on that note, since when did Hermione Granger follow foolish urges without any consideration for the repercussions? The water's sweet, lulling melody continued to beckon her onward and those blatant warnings were easy to ignore once she stood on the shoreline watching the moon turn the surface of the water into a shimmering wonderland.

One deep breath in and a slow breath out was all it took before Hermione was diving headfirst into the icy water - and her first clue that something wasn't quite right came immediately. She didn't truly feel the cold. While she could feel her skin pebble with gooseflesh and her nipples tighten and harden from the temperature of the lake's water, it didn't bother her at all. Instead, the witch cut through the water with ease and something buried deep within her rejoiced. A sense of belonging the likes of which Hermione had never felt before washed over her, and as odd as it was, the water felt more like home than anywhere she'd ever been before.

The witch surfaced, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, cool night air with a brilliantly wide smile lighting up her face.

"Merlin," she breathed at the thrill that ran down her spine. Nearly euphoric, the witch was too busy basking in the moonlight's ethereal glow, turning her naturally tan skin a perfect porcelain hue, that she almost didn't notice the change occurring. However, when her vision suddenly sharpened and everything looked as if the sun were high in the sky, Hermione's heart jolted.

Once again a pull tugged at her, strong enough that instinct made her dive towards the darkest depths of the lake. If the witch had thought she moved quickly through the water before, it was a snail's pace in comparison to the way her lithe form sliced through the water now. Fighting the urge the continue on her chosen path, Hermione rolled and twisted and her cinnamon-hued eyes widened both in fear and understanding the moment she spotted the multi-colored, pearlescent tail where her legs should have been.

It was then that she realized she'd been breathing comfortably underwater.

"Good Godric!" Hermione exclaimed and startled when her voice sounded just as it did on land. "What in Merlin's name?" She whispered, feeling her heart crash mercilessly against her sternum. The pull, that dastardly thing that led her to the lake in the first place, made its presence known once more, much more urgently than before and try as she might, Hermione simply couldn't ignore it. Instead, she closed her eyes and focused all of her energy on whatever this new sense or gift was, and what exactly it wanted from her.

Floating weightlessly in the black depths, her wild curls dancing in a halo around her, she stayed that way for several long minutes until her eyes snapped open and, as if she'd done it a million times before, Hermione used the foreign tail to propel her forward, back toward the school. She wasn't entirely sure who she was looking for, but she did know she had to get to them. Warn them. Help them.

It was a matter of life or death.

A tickle in the back of her mind reminded her that mermaids had long been told to be foretellers of doom and misfortune. Thanks to her new form, the light of the Slytherin dorms crept steadily closer until Hermione came to a stop only a few meters away from the submerged windows. The pull was much stronger now, whoever was destined for disaster most definitely resided in the dorm. The witch and apparent mermaid rolled her eyes, feeling very much mocked by the fates.

Of course, the person she was meant to forewarn would be someone who'd rather Crucio her than ever accept her help.

Still, she inched closer and closer still until she was peeking through the thick window panes. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the dark, gothic look to the Slytherin common room. Harry and Ron had described it to her in second year, but their description had been sorely lacking. Quickly scanning the people gathered there and feeling nothing but that urgent pull, telling her that her mark wasn't Nott, Zabini, Parkinson or Greengrass - and briefly wondering if Malfoy and Parkinson had called it quits, or if they just had a fairly open relationship, seeing as her tongue was currently checking Zabini's molars for cavities.

Just as quickly as the thought came it was wiped from her mind as what Hermione could only describe as a vision played out in her mind.

She was temporarily transported to a sprawling, immaculate estate. Rolling green lawns, surrounded by what could only be an ancient forest by the looks of the trees. White peacocks strutted to and fro in the moonlight, causing a small giggle to escape Hermione's lips but it caught in her throat as piercing, wailing cries shattered the peaceful silence of the night. She tried to move forward, to offer some assistance to whoever was making those horrific sounds but she was seemingly stuck in place. The cries echoed in her mind, bouncing painfully off her skull. She clamped her hands over her ears and felt tears slip from her own eyes, and she would later swear she felt pain so intense it nearly crippled her before her eyes snapped open once more and she found herself floating outside the Slytherin dormitories again.

Feeling a painful squeezing sensation in her chest, Hermione quickly moved away from the common room and for once simply relied on instinct. With each powerful flip of her tail, the tug felt stronger until she came to a sudden stop outside another window. This one dark, but thanks to the newfound, heightened senses she possessed, she knew she would be able to see inside despite the darkness. Taking a breath, odd as it was, to steady her nerves - Hermione slowly moved to the glass and searched the near-empty sleeping quarters. One bed had its curtains closed, two sat empty and Hermione would be willing to bet the owners were currently snogging in the common room.

And then her eyes fell on the only visibly occupied bed in the room, it's curtains wide open leaving the slumbering boy exposed to her inquisitive eyes. Hermione's first instinct was to recoil, deny any of this ever happened to her dying breath and leave the sleeping Slytherin to his ominous future. Her stomach rolled with nausea and an internal battle raged within her. That is until he rolled over, facing the window.

Draco Malfoy's pointed and aristocratic features were pulled tight and his lips moved silently in his sleep. Without realizing it, Hermione drew ever closer to the glass separating them. Raising a shaky hand and placing it against the pane, she stared at the boy who had tormented her for years and felt something fall into place within her soul.

Once again she was blinded by a vision, only this time she stood at Malfoy's shoulder in what she could only assume was his bedroom at home. Had she not been so entranced by the sight of Draco Malfoy gently consoling a weeping Narcissa Malfoy, she might have scoffed at the glaring opulence of the room, much too much for any fifteen-year-old boy. But the careful and loving way he spoke words of reassurance while he cradled his obviously distraught mother captured all of her attention. Slowly, she began to circle the pair, focusing on what was said and the way they clung to one another - as if they might lose each other at any moment.

"Please stop crying, mother," Malfoy begged, though his own eyes were bloodshot and glassy with unshed tears. "No, I never wanted this, but if it assures your safety nothing could stop me from going through with it. We can only hope that when this is all over, hopefully with that monster fertilizing the soil somewhere, the Wizengamot will take my age and the circumstances of my marking into consideration."

"No!" His mother choked out through her sobs. "Everything I've done, I've done so that you would not follow in your father's footsteps. Please, my darling dragon, don't do this!"

Hermione could see the frustration building in Malfoy with each word that fell from his mother's lips. She couldn't help but wince as he pulled away from her, his voice cracking and breaking over his words.

"Mother, I have no choice. After father's failure," Malfoy rolled his eyes, causing the first of the tears he had so valiantly battled against to fall. "The Dark Lord came to me and made it very clear: I do this, or you die the most brutal and painful death he can come up with. In front of my very eyes. And then I die, as well. I have no choice, mother. Neither do you and the sooner you accept that, the better off we'll both be."

Hermione was frozen with horror, and she was surprised to find that with each crystalline drop that fell from Malfoy's eyes a piercing jolt of pain would rip through her heart.

"I am so sorry, Draco," his mother whimpered through her tears. "We tried so hard to shield you, and it was all for nought. I've failed you, my darling boy."

The last thing Hermione saw before the vision cleared and her senses returned to normal was Malfoy's face crumpling at his mother's words, as tears fell, unchecked, from his eyes.

When her amber eyes once again found his sleeping form, she wasn't surprised by the compassion and pity she felt for him. Yes, he'd been horrible to her and called her the worst possible slurs he could come up with - but he was still just a boy. No one deserved that kind of dark and dismal future. The more she stared at him, watching as he began to toss and turn - and even though the windows muffled the sound, she could still hear the whimpers escaping him - Hermione felt a bubble of something start to grow in her chest.

Perching carefully on the slight outcropping of the window, she fought against the foreign sensation but found she couldn't tear her amber eyes away from Malfoy's obviously troubled form. Hermione thought she'd conquered whatever strange mermaid magic was compelling her until Malfoy cried out in his sleep and the bubble popped. Next thing she knew, she was singing a haunting yet hopeful song to the boy who hated her with every fiber of his being.

Hermione had always had a lovely singing voice, but even she was shocked by the nearly angelic and utterly breathtaking tenor of her voice, as well as the foreign language she sang in, and completely understood though she knew she'd never heard it before. It wasn't enough to stop her, however, and she continued croon to her enemy feeling a warmth spread through her as her voice seemed to soothe Malfoy and his fitful sleep seemed to turn peaceful the longer she sang. Hermione stayed perched outside Malfoy's window, singing him his very own lullaby until she heard footsteps approaching the dormitory. With one last long look at the pale boy and an odd twinge in her heart that she refused to acknowledge, she pushed herself away from her perch and disappeared into the inky waters.

And it was at that moment that Draco Malfoy sat upright in his bed, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath and his eyes locked on the window where Hermione had been only moments before.

 **O-O-O**

The next morning dawned much too early for Hermione. Her late-night excursion followed by hours of tossing and turning while her mind tried to make sense of everything left her exhausted and moody. After snapping at Harry, who had only wished her a good morning and snarling at Ron for asking if he could take a look her potions essay, a much more reasonable reaction, she thought - she half-heartedly apologized and excused herself, deciding to head down to breakfast early.

The boys would wait for Ginny and she felt the need for a little space, seeing as everything seemed to chafe against her already taxed nerves. Her uniform felt oddly cumbersome and heavy, making Hermione pull and tug at her tie and sleeves often. Every sound seemed amplified, scents she was certain she never would have picked up on before her ill-fated late night trip to the lake now overwhelmed her senses, though she struggled to identify what they were. And so, she found herself racing towards the Great Hall, breathing solely through her mouth - having hoped that would help only to find she could also taste whatever it was in the air.

By the time she made it to the heavy, wooden doors of the Great Hall, Hermione resembled a zombie. Her usual pep was missing and her eyes were dull and vacant, a notable difference from their usual bright and glittering state, brimming with excitement for another day of learning. She moved slowly towards the Gryffindor table and took a seat in a daze. Her eyes scanned the breakfast offerings with a deep grimace, as absolutely nothing looked appetizing. In fact, she had the strongest craving for a bagel with cream cheese and lox - her mouth watered at the thought of it. And in a move that was incredibly out of character for her, Hermione called on one of the school's house-elves and when Dobby appeared at her side with a crack, she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the overpowering sickly-sweet scent that wafted off him in waves.

While the petite, curly-haired witch nearly charmed the knitted socks off of Dobby's oddly shaped feet and easily secured her desired breakfast - Draco Malfoy watched from the Slytherin table with a deep furrow between his brows.

He almost couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing: Gryffindor's Golden Princess and champion of the lost, downtrodden and unworthy was calling on one of her lost causes, to bring her a special treat for breakfast? Her odd behavior coupled with the dream that had haunted him from the moment his eyes opened, in which Granger starred, had Draco on edge.

He swallowed a bite of oatmeal with berries and honey, though it tasted like ash on his tongue as his mind continued to race while he stared at the mudblood with confusion and concern. The dream had been innocent enough, just the two of them in a room he'd never seen before, staring into one another's eyes while the most enchanting music he'd ever heard played in the background. Draco had been surprised by the lack of disgust and wariness that was always simmering in her stare whenever he was present. No, in the dream her eyes were gentle and kind - comforting.

Draco swallowed against his suddenly dry throat and turned his attention away from the witch just as Dobby returned with whatever the barmy swot had ordered; he grabbed his goblet of pumpkin juice and drained it. Staring down at his breakfast, his troubled mind kept bringing the dream to the forefront of his thoughts and against his wishes, his eyes strayed back to Granger only to find her eyes already fixed on him. As silver met amber, the chatter of their schoolmates dulled to a low hum and Draco felt entranced by her inquisitive gaze. While he couldn't put a finger on it, something was different about her - of that much he was certain.

Hermione found herself just as captivated by Malfoy's glittering, silver stare. Try as she might, she couldn't tear her eyes away. In an almost comical turn of events that veered slightly toward creepy, they both tipped their heads to the side, his to the right and hers to the left, at the exact same moment. As the pair innocently sized the other up, a tingle slowly crawled up Hermione's spine before a wave of emotion crashed over her, ripping a gasp from her lungs. Confusion, worry, intrigue, distrust, as well as a small, but prevalent emotion that bathed her with warmth and caused her cheeks to burn in response, so real and visceral she could have easily mistaken them for her own had she not felt them quite literally crash into her consciousness.

The witch realized her fear and shock must have been apparent when Malfoy's eyes narrowed as a fresh, and much more insistent confusion radiated from his person. Pushing her mostly eaten bagel away and tearing her eyes away from her Slytherin tormentor, Hermione nearly fell over the bench in her hurry to get away from him, his disconcerting emotions, and everything else. It was all too much at the moment, and so she ran away. Not exactly the most courageous, nor the most Gryffindor response, but at that moment Hermione could care less.

She raced blindly up the stone staircase, only pausing when they would shift and move. Classes didn't begin for another few hours and though Hermione had no clear destination in mind other than away, she wasn't surprised when her feet carried her to the fifth floor. In fact, the moment she stepped off the staircase she knew where she was headed and fervently hoped she might find some answers locked away in the Prefect's bath. Nervously chewing her bottom lip, Hermione gave the password and entered the cavernous room, listening closely for any sounds signifying someone else's presence and breathed a sigh of relief when all was quiet before locking the door behind her.

The witch cautiously approached the enormous bathing pool, because truly, calling it a tub was laughable - only to freeze in place when the mermaid in the stained-glass window turned suddenly and grinned at her. Hermione remained entirely still, as though she were made of stone - while the lovely creature _actually_ made of glass looked her over closely, excitement and joy dancing in her dark eyes.

 _I see you've finally come into your heritage, little one! How exciting for you, love._

Hermione stumbled back several steps, worriedly looking around the room for the person speaking, only to find the expansive room just as empty as it had been when she entered. A tinkling, happy laugh came next and the witch warily raised her eyes back to the beautiful depiction of a mermaid immortalized in the stained glass when she realized the voice and subsequent laughter only sounded within the confines of her mind, otherwise, that laugh would echo like every other sound did in this room.

"What is going in?" Hermione demanded, the worry and fear she had ignored and tried to bury under her impressive bravado chose that moment to break free and the witch felt like her life was veering wildly off course an into a realm full of nothing but chaos and secrets.

 _Oh, sweet little one, I've waited for this moment for what feels like eons. I sensed your lineage the first moment I laid eyes on you, however, I couldn't communicate because you hadn't accepted your gifts yet. You must tell me how your transformation came to be!_

"I mustn't tell you anything until you begin explaining what is happening to me!" Hermione was well aware that she sounded more than a little hysterical and felt mere moments away from a nervous breakdown. "I have been going out of my mind this year between Umbridge and -" the overwhelmed witch snapped her mouth shut just before she revealed the DA. It would be tragic if she bore the consequences of her own jinx because of an emotional outburst. "The only place that seemed to bring me any peace and solace was the lake and then…"

The mermaid in the glass watched the witch with what appeared to be sympathetic eyes as Hermione's words trailed off to nothing. Several moments of her prolonged, empathetic stare had the hair on the back of Hermione's neck standing on end. Just as she began to question the sentient window flourish, the creature's melodic voice sounded in her mind once more.

 _Ah, you were unaware of your pedigree. And you've found your charge! Oh, darling little one, this is a moment to celebrate not mourn. I imagine your change and the revelations of last night startled you, but sweet Hermione, you must see what a treasure you will be to this world. You, little one, will be the light in the darkness, the calm to the looming storm. Do not fret, love. Rejoice._

"H-how do you know all this? What is going on? Why was I never told about all of this? Are my - Do my parents know?" Try as she might to remain in control of her emotions, Hermione's voice cracked and her bottom lip quivered from the effort to hold back her tears.

 _Have you not already deduced how I know these things, little one? Have you not experienced one or more of your inborn gifts? True merpeople are terribly rare, darling. And you? A maiden of Triton's court blessed with the gift of magic from your father's line? You'll be a shining gem whether on land or sea. Oh, I am so overjoyed to finally meet you._

"My father's line?" Hermione asked in a dumbstruck whisper. "Are you telling me that my father...that my father's family has magic?"

 _Of course, darling. Oh my, you weren't aware of that either? Poor darling girl, I'm certain your parents had their reasons - most likely your safety, first and foremost. As I said, Hermione, true merpeople, and the gifts they have are wonderous and those that know of us and believe in our power - they'd do anything to possess one of us. Try not to harbor any ill feelings towards your family, their love for you is what shaped you into the incredible creature you are today._

"You mentioned my charge? What does that mean?" Her voice shook with nerves and her breakfast churned unpleasantly in her gut - it was all too much. A coy smile curved the mermaid's lips as she tilted her head to the side.

 _Your destiny, of course. You can feel the bond strengthening between the two of you even now. No, don't try to deny it, young one. You felt the call and answered it. You sang him your song. You felt his turmoil. And you will be his salvation - so long as you do not desert him in the darkest of times._

"This is a nightmare," Hermione whispered to herself. "It must be. Malfoy is not my destiny, I am not his salvation - I must've eaten something bad at dinner and this is the result. A truly terrifying nightmare." One deep breath, a resounding smack to her cheek, and the resulting crimson handprint left behind reassured the witch she was not, in fact, dreaming. "You're wrong! You must be," she begged.

Draco Malfoy would never willingly have anything to do with her, of that Hermione was certain. But then again, that warmth she felt as they stared across the Great Hall at one another? No. Impossible.

 _You both will face many obstacles, but anything worth having is never easy little one. Trust your instincts and follow your heart, it will never lead you astray. You're scared now, but you'll find your footing soon enough, love. You have my word. And I'm not going anywhere, I've been waiting here for you. You can return anytime you like and we can chat._

Swallowing hard, Hermione nodded woodenly. Panic clawed at her chest and the tears she'd been battling threatened to fall from their precarious perch on her lashes. "Yes, of course," she forced out in a broken whisper. "Thank you. I must be off though, classes will be starting and I have a few things I must do."

 _Look in the restricted section, three rows from the back, fifth shelf. You'll know it when you see it, little one. I hope it answers what questions are plaguing your tender heart. I do hope you'll return soon, it's been an age since I had someone to talk with._

Blinking back tears, the witch croaked out an affirmation before turning on her heel, and once again defying her Gryffindor nature, ran away. She needed answers, she needed to know exactly what was happening and why the universe had decided to play such a cruel joke on her. And just like every other time she'd felt shaken to the core by something she'd learned in the magical world, she knew the answers and some measure of comfort would be found in the library.

 **O-O-O**

Footnote: I hope you enjoyed it. This _**should**_ be a short and sweet little ditty. Roughly five chapters in total. However, I am a slave to my muse, so we shall see. As always, I hope you'll drop me a note and tell me your thoughts - though I have to be honest, I'm kind of terrified. I don't know why, I can't really explain it, but that's that. Guess I'm just a wee bit crazy? Meh. Aren't we all? xx - otterly


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: Mermaids! Woo. Sorry. Idk. I'm in a weird place this morning. Thanks to Rachel for beta'ing this like a boss, Edie for being so excited, Nicole for giving such a beautiful prompt, and Cathy for her endless support. Feel better soon, mama. Love you ladies so damn much._

 _JKR owns Harry Potter. I own driving Draco batty this chapter. Wee! Onward._

* * *

Betrayal licked through Hermione's veins like a slow building inferno, her parents knew all of this and hid it for years. Even after her magical heritage had been revealed by her Hogwarts letter, they still remained mum on their pasts. Did they not think it was pertinent information to share? Her mother, her loving, kind mother, the person Hermione most admired - a woman she believed to be loyal, moral, and honest to a fault - didn't trust her daughter enough to share something so critically important? And her father? A man that was so shocked by her magical abilities he remained agog for days following McGonagall's visit had always been aware of the Wizarding World?

Hermione repeatedly swiped at her damp cheeks while she navigated the school's hallowed halls, miserably shuffling her way to the library. If there was a book that would help her with this waking nightmare she currently found herself in, well, she _needed_ that book - no matter how her mind and soul cried out for her to pen a letter to her parents immediately. It would be best to calm and center herself first - regardless, her more logical side argued - otherwise anything she wrote would be accusatory and unhelpful. Still, the ache taking up residence in her heart left her feeling hollow and disassociated from reality - had her whole life been a lie?

Still being so early in the day, the library was predictably deserted. Madam Pince offered Hermione an irritated glare over her spectacles before the elder witch rolled her eyes and very pointedly looked away - something that would normally chafe against the young witch's nerves. But, with all the chaos currently disrupting her life, Hermione ignored the cantankerous woman with ease. Having received a pass for the Restricted Section from McGonagall ages ago, a flick of her wand unhooked the rope barring the younger students entry and the witch slipped into the stacks without another thought.

"Three rows from the back, fifth shelf," Hermione whispered as she strolled through the drafty labyrinth of ancient tomes. With each step, the ball of nerves that had settled in the pit of her stomach grew heavier and left the witch feeling nauseated. She knew the information she sought was incredibly important to discovering _who_ and _what_ she was, but the mere idea that she was something altogether _other_ disturbed her. Finding out she was a witch had been a bitter pill to swallow, coming only a few years after she'd learned and accepted that her fairy tales and the stories of Father Christmas, The Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny weren't real, that magic - _Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo_ magic - didn't exist. Like every other child, she took what pain came from losing that part of her innocence on the chin and carried on with a stiff upper lip, until that fateful afternoon with McGonagall in her parent's sitting room.

Hermione could remember feeling overjoyed as she learned that magic was indeed real, and not only that, but that _she_ was one of the special, _gifted_ few that could wield and manipulate it to do her bidding - that she, _herself_ , had magic running alongside the blood in her veins. A magic that was entirely and uniquely her own, one that was tethered to her very soul, and she had immediately known she would do anything and _everything_ to protect and nurture this precious gift the Powers That Be had graced her with. Yet Hermione _still_ had trouble wrapping her mind around some of the simplest and purest forms of magic. For instance, she had spent years scoffing at the romantic notion of soulmates, believing it to be a myth that took root when arranged marriages were the norm - one that seemed to only grow in popularity as the years went on. That is, until Luna Lovegood pulled her aside and tried to reason with her, backed first by Ginny, and then both McGonagall _and_ Ginny when Hermione continued to baulk at the very idea. She'd spent an uncomfortable evening feeling chastised and slightly mocked as the trio explained not only are soulmate bonds very much real, they were also considered to be a bond of the most sacred sort, meant to be spoken of with reverence, hope, and wonder - not scrutiny and malice.

Just one of many instances where her Muggle upbringing had hindered her magical education.

A small growl of frustration weakened only by the presence of tears escaped Hermione. Once again, bitter betrayal crashed over her like an angry wave punishing the shore. Her father, a squib from the Granger-Dagworth line, held every bit of this information within the confines of his mind - she was sure of it. Hermione's bookish traits came from him, after all. Some of her earliest memories were of Richard Granger reading his textbooks aloud to quiet his ever-curious and overly tired toddler. He'd graduated with top honours when she was three, while her mother achieved the same shortly after her fifth birthday.

Until his eleventh birthday came and passed, with no letters of acceptance from any magical schools or bouts of unruly, accidental magic, her father would have been raised like any other pure-blood or half-blood witch or wizard, with full knowledge of the wizarding world and all its customs. The realization that her father could have been preparing her for a possible life with magic from the very start, and simply chose not to do so, caused a fresh wave of merciless melancholy to wreak havoc on her sense of self. Hermione was caught off guard by how visceral the ache in her chest had grown to be and brought a hand up to rub soothingly against her sternum. She closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths to battle the swirling storm of emotions contained within. She already felt unstable and the crackling sparks of magic from the ends of her hair and fingertips proved the witch was far too close to losing control.

When Hermione finally reopened her eyes, it was with resignation. Too much - it was all too much. Her only hope for maintaining her sanity and the sanctity of her magic was finding the book the mermaid in the glass had mentioned. With a renewed sense of purpose, she marched past shelf after shelf, wondering exactly _how_ she'd know which book she was looking for until she came upon the correct row and her question was answered. The sixteenth book on the fifth shelf was emitting a soft, pulsing light - aquamarine in colour and immediately entrancing. Hermione couldn't have looked away if she wanted, and exactly like the night before, she felt an undeniable pull from the book and knew with profound certainty it had been patiently waiting for her to claim it all this time. The book itself was glorious in its beauty, covered in jewel-toned scales that reflected the soft light prismatically, throwing rainbow-hued beams of light all over and easily stealing the breath from her lungs.

Her earlier apprehension entirely forgotten, Hermione broke her near-reverent code of conduct for libraries and immediately scaled the ancient wooden shelves, too eager for answers to spare a moment to look for the ladder or cast a simple levitation spell. She'd feel guilty later, but at that moment, all that mattered was getting that book as quickly as possible. As soon as her fingertips brushed over the spine, a brilliant burst of light blinded the witch. Blinking rapidly in hopes of clearing the black spots obscuring her vision from the assault, Hermione pulled the book from its place and hugged it to her chest. Just having the book in her arms lessened the growing panic and hysteria, granting her a momentary reprieve.

When she could see clearly once more, Hermione stalked back out of the stacks, making a sharp right as soon as she left the Restricted Section and heading straight for her favourite hidden nook. She felt ravenous towards the words cradled tenderly in her arms and was ready to devour every morsel of knowledge she could glean from the ancient text. Hermione could almost imagine the letter she'd send by owl later that night - heavy with the weight of their secrets and lies, exposed and neatly dissected by her hand. She would demand answers and settle for nothing less than full disclosure.

Sliding into her favourite overstuffed armchair at a small study table, Hermione tucked her legs beneath her as she always did and wasted no time in cracking the book open. A foreign language, made of glyphs and runes the likes of which she'd never seen before, littered the pages and for one brief moment the witch wanted nothing more than to dissolve into a puddle of tears after setting the traitorous book aflame. Restraining herself, and only just barely, she skimmed over the odd text and battled back furious tears. Slowly flipping through page after page, Hermione could feel all the stress, fear, anger, and hurt simmering just beneath the surface, just waiting for its opportunity to strike and pull her down into the dismal depths of despair.

Feeling much like a strong wind could shatter her in her current state, she pillowed her arms over the open pages and laid her head down. As a hot tear broke free from her thick lashes and began its descent, the witch brokenly whispered, "Please."

Hermione didn't know exactly who or what she was begging for, but she also didn't let that stop her. She channelled every ounce of her magic and all of her turbulent emotions into the one-word prayer. Soon enough, the sound of waves rolling in the distance filled her ears and the briny scent of sea air tickled her olfactory senses. Each so real and lifelike, genuine fear kept her eyes firmly shut, afraid that when she opened them again she wouldn't be sitting at her favourite table, in her favourite place on Earth, and would instead be looking out over some foreign sea, never more lost or more alone.

"Are you sleeping?" The slow, precise drawl broke through whatever trancelike state she'd unwittingly entered and for that Hermione was grateful. It didn't stop her entire body from tensing or her emotional shields to slam down around her. Like an early warning system, the second Malfoy's voice cut through whatever rabbit hole she'd fallen into, it was red alert, all personnel to battle stations.

"Not today, Malfoy," the witch croaked. She kept her head down, hoping, wishing, praying for once he'd listen and just walk away. But, as with all things she wished for, the fates laughed in response - just as the pointy-faced ferret pulled out the chair opposite hers.

"Are you ill? You sound like you have something stuck in your throat. It's not very a pleasant sound, Granger." Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, today was not her day. Unwilling to engage, she kept quiet and ignored the constant thorn in her side. "Are you really _ignoring_ me? How incredibly rude of you, Granger. What would your parents think? Oh, that's _right -"_

No more. Enough. With everything she'd experienced in the last twelve hours, she didn't have the strength left to deal with Malfoy's bigotry and petty hate. Lifting her head and pinning the blonde Slytherin with eyes full of fury and grief, she cut him off.

"Don't," Hermione hissed. So enraged she was, the witch forgot she'd spent hours in extreme emotional turmoil and likely looked a fright. Anger, hot and bitter, brought a flush to her cheeks and made her heart beat a staccato rhythm against her sternum. Slamming her hands down on the table she spat, "Do not speak to me about _my_ parents right now, Malfoy. Or I swear, I will punch you again. And again."

Now, either the ferret was truly terrified of the power behind her punches, or he was caught off guard by her hostility. It didn't matter - she rejoiced in those few moments of stunned silence. Yes, perhaps she was taking out her frustration, hurt, anger and bitterness on a not-so-innocent bystander. And, yes, maybe that _was_ wrong but she couldn't help it. Somehow - some way - releasing even a little bit of that poison which had been steadily flooding her bloodstream, made her feel better.

Malfoy searched her face with his eyes and Hermione was baffled by what seemed to be concern seeping into his gaze. The wizard leaned forward with his elbows on the study desk and when he spoke, his voice was low and serious. "Have you been crying, Granger?"

Startled, and a little embarrassed, the witch lifted her chin in defiance and narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits. How dare he? He had absolutely no right! For all she knew, he was the cause of this whole miserable mess. Hadn't it been him she was drawn to? Who she couldn't seem to leave the night before?

"I don't see how that's any of your concern, Malfoy," she snapped, lowering her eyes to the useless book resting on the table between them. Her eyes immediately widened with shock and awe as they drifted over the same page she'd investigated earlier - of the ridiculous book that had fully broken her spirit - and she understood every rune, every line, every scribble. Her pulse sounded like thunder in her ears and her breathing sped. Had she somehow done this? The waves, the salty sea air - how on earth? In a moment of blind panic, the witch snapped the book shut with quite a bit of force.

Sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest, she allowed a small flame of excitement to spark to life within her, even though confusion and fear were prominently assaulting her senses. Lost as she was in her discovery, she didn't notice Malfoy's pale hand sliding over the wooden surface of the desk until he'd wrapped his long, tapered fingers around the spine and slid the book over to him.

"No need to get your knickers in a twist, princess. You just look like someone kicked your Crup pup is all," the Slytherin wizard sighed, tracing a finger along the pearlescent scales making up the book's cover. Hermione's mouth went dry and instinct screamed for her to rip it away from him and run, but she knew she couldn't. If she reacted so viscerally, Malfoy - pompous ass that he was - would likely take her only hope for understanding what was happening to her and lock it away forever.

Instead, she curled her hands into fists and tried to regulate her breathing, tamping down her righteous indignation and fury, in hope that the evil prat wouldn't notice how important the tome was to her.

"This is lovely," he murmured in a hushed, almost reverent voice, cracking the book open and looking at the foreign runes with a furrowed brow. "Is it about mermaids?"

Caught off-guard, Hermione answered him honestly, "It's supposed to be."

Those bright silver eyes looked up from the pages and the witch could see the curiosity hidden within their gem-like depths. Say what you will about the abrasive Malfoy, but his eyes? His eyes were undeniably beautiful. Such a waste. "Can you read this?" Gone was the Malfoy she had always known, and in his place was an inquisitive young man who looked genuinely excited about the prospect. Hermione swallowed thickly before clearing her throat to buy herself a few moments, but his gaze remained steady and she knew she'd have to answer.

"Er, no," she lied, shaking her head with a rueful smile. "I am taking Ancient Runes though and thought it would be a wonderful challenge to try and decipher. I've never seen anything like it before."

Malfoy held her stare for several heartbeats before offering what resembled a nod of approvement. "Look, you're obviously having a bad day and though I'm sure you'll have trouble believing it, I didn't come here to start anything. I saw you here, you looked like you had fallen asleep and you've never done that before, I...wanted to make sure you weren't dead or something. I can tell you've been crying, Granger - and contrary to popular belief - I'm not a complete tosser." He sighed, glancing up at her once more. "I don't know what's got you so upset, but I have this disconcerting urge to try and make and make you feel better." He pulled a face and shook his head as if to clear it, "This is shaping up to be the oddest bloody day. I have no earthly idea why I'm even in here. I didn't even need to come to the library. Am I losing my damned mind?"

Hermione's cocked a brow at that but didn't interrupt, seeing as this was possibly the most cordial the young wizard had ever been in regards to her.

Malfoy did appear stressed, fidgeting with his tie, running a hand through his hair as if he were anxious - briefly, Hermione wondered if her visit the previous evening had something to do with his odd behaviour.

"Lo and behold, who do I run into? Hermione fucking Granger! What was that over breakfast anyway? It's like I can't get away from you and it's wearing me bloody thin. Between the dream, your odd behaviour at breakfast, ending up in the library with no real recollection of why and stumbling upon you once again - argh!"

She could only blink at his outburst, startled by both his actions and his words. He'd dreamt of her? Was he even aware he'd admitted that aloud? Likely not, as he hadn't immediately stopped talking, insulted her, and left - no, on the contrary, he was still ranting away.

"Then you just happen to be working with an ancient text all about mermaids! As far back as I can remember, my father would tell me this fantastical story at bedtime." Hermione hated herself for how easily she was drawn into his tale but hung on his every word regardless. "He swears that when he was close to my age, _his_ father had business to attend to on the Isle of Wight and allowed him to come along. Apparently, my grandfather would be spending a couple months there and didn't want to leave my father at home alone with nothing but the elves to keep him company." Malfoy closed the book once more and went back to tracing the delicate pattern of the shimmering scales. "Father had only been there a few days when he allegedly stumbled upon a small group of fisherman struggling with something caught in their nets. He assumed it was either a large haul of fish or, possibly a dolphin or some such sea creature. As he got closer, however, he could hear their almost feverish excitement as they yelled to one another, "We've almost got her, mate. Just a little bit closer. Club her! Club her!"

The wizard paused and looked back up. Hermione was stunned by the amount of sadness in his gaze.

"They'd somehow caught a mermaid - not like the ones in the Black Lake - but an honest-to-goodness mermaid, like the sirens of old, in their net. And she was crying and begging for them to let her go." His eyes drifted away as he got lost in recalling the story, but the witch couldn't tear her gaze away from him. Hermione was on the edge of her seat, hanging on to his every word. "Father was horrified. Mermaids, true mermaids, are nearly worshipped in Wizarding culture and these Muggle fishermen were either going to harm her or kill her - no doubt to earn a tidy profit - and he knew he couldn't allow that to happen. So he drew his wand, stunned them and rushed to her aid. It took a while; she was so twisted up in that blasted net and so very frightened, which of course made her fight harder and only made matters worse."

"What did he do?" Hermione couldn't help but ask and Malfoy glanced back at her with a crooked grin she'd never seen from him before and sighed.

"Father told her he was a wizard and that if she'd just stay still he could have her free in seconds. If you've researched the subject as I have - don't give me that look, Granger - the more I grew, the less I believed my father and wanted to prove his story false, alright?" He cut across her when she'd given him a sassy smirk and cocked a brow at his revelation before holding her hands up in surrender, even if she had to press her lips firmly together so she didn't laugh out loud at his indignance. "Anyway, as I was saying, if you've researched the subject, you'll find that wizards and witches can form deep, meaningful bonds with true maids of Triton's court. Something about how our magic inherently protects us from the most dangerous and deadliest of the merpeople's gifts. Well, she calmed and stared up at him with profound relief and hope, and with a few flicks of his wand she was free. Father says, to this day, he'd never seen anything as incredible and awe-inspiring as this creature the Muggles wanted nothing more than to use as a meal ticket. And she was so incredibly grateful, she swore an oath to him: 'Through all my days and through all time, regardless of where and regardless of when, I swear to you, by my heart and my fin, I promise to honour you and protect you to the very end, my friend'."

"Wow," Hermione whispered.

"They spent every day of that trip together, learning about one another and each other's lives. Father swears he's never had another friend who understood him so completely as she did," Malfoy murmured.

"What happened?" She quietly demanded. But the way Malfoy's face darkened and the light in his eyes dimmed, Hermione wasn't sure she still wanted to know.

"He'll kill me if he ever finds out I've told you any of this, Granger," he warned.

"You have my word, Malfoy, it'll be our little secret," the witch readily promised, prompting a soft snort of laughter from the wizard. Just a sharp expulsion of air through his nose, but the corners of his lips turned up briefly before he rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he huffed. "Roughly a week before he and his father were scheduled to return home to Wiltshire, my father trekked to their secret meeting place - an outcropping of rocks on the far side of the island - to find her there waiting for him. He knew something was wrong the moment he saw her - they'd formed their own bond, you see - and he couldn't feel what she was feeling exactly but he _knew_ something had happened. When he questioned her, she broke down in tears." Malfoy's eyes went distant again but there was something else hidden in their depths that left Hermione feeling cold.

"She warned him that he'd be forced into something he didn't want by his father. And that it would mean the end of the Malfoy line within a generation." His hard swallow was evidence of how much that statement affected him. "Father was...horrified. He'd promised her he'd find a way out of whatever was coming his way and thanked her profusely for the warning. It's one of their greatest gifts, you know? Foretelling doom and destruction. So father kissed her cheek, he loved her like a sister or best friend and felt so genuinely blessed by the fates to have been in right place at the exact right time - and then he rushed home to speak with my grandfather."

Though Malfoy was speaking vaguely, Hermione could read between the lines. The mermaid had been warning him about Voldemort. Her stunned silence was only punctuated by her wide, slowly blinking eyes. Lucius Malfoy was _forced_ into Voldemort's ranks? Would wonders never cease? Sadly, the witch could also guess what happened next, though she remained quiet allowing Malfoy to continue this oddly pleasant and extraordinarily out of character conversation between them.

"Grandfather was livid," the pale wizard murmured. "He told my father in no uncertain terms that he _would_ do whatever he was told before locking him in his room and magically sealing the house to prevent his escape. Then he left and went to find her. To this day my father doesn't know what he did - or what he said - but when he managed to escape his father's clutches just before they were to leave in order to see her and make plans to keep their bond alive and strong,. He only found a message in a bottle apologizing for abandoning him in his hour of greatest need, but that she had to or else her life was forfeit."

"Oh, Malfoy." Hermione gasped, covering her mouth and shaking her head. "That's terrible!"

"Yeah," he nodded absently, lost in thought.

"And he never saw her again?" She questioned sadly, though it was baffling to feel such on Lucius' behalf. Those lovely eyes of his met hers and Hermione would swear she could feel the melancholy coming off of him in waves.

"Never," he concurred. The pair held each other's stare for several long moments before Malfoy seemingly remembered where and who he was and forcefully shoved the book back across the desk. "I didn't realize how late it had gotten. Potions will start in roughly ten minutes," he said, his tone short and crisp before pushing away from the desk and standing. Hermione was sure he'd stalk off, likely annoyed he'd shared something so personal with her, but he surprised her yet again when he paused. "Whatever it is that has you so upset, Granger? I'm sure you'll figure it out. Don't beat yourself up about it."

She was still trying to form a response as he walked away, leaving her alone with only her blown mind for company.


End file.
